The Master of Death Wears Hawiian Shirts
by The Architect Project
Summary: In which demons discover why you shouldn't summon the Master of Death while he's on vacation.


A very short little one-shot that I had saved on my phone. I probably won't continue this, I'm quite happy with it either way. Remember to leave a review. ^.^

Note: Kicked up the rating to 'T' for implied sexual situations and the dropping of the F bomb.

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The demons snarled at Sam as he struggled to break free of the thick ropes tying him to the wooden beam. There were four of them, three females, a redhead and two brunettes, and a blond man. Sam had woken up here and wasn't quite sure what they were planning, but he could guess that it probably wasn't a good thing. He knew he was in deep shit when they started chanting in a language he didn't recognize. Their synchronized voices echoed around the cement room, bouncing back towards them and creating an eerie effect.

After a few minutes of the creepy chanting, the redheaded woman stepped forward and ripped open Sam's shirt, drawing a knife and slicing the delicate skin on his chest, placing a bowl under the wound to collect the blood.

"Blood of the destined, we summon the Master," She chanted and the other demons repeated after her. Nothing happened for a few seconds, making Sam wonder if they has messed up the ritual somehow. He really didn't want to get his chest sliced again, if they were going to try and repeat it.  
He was both disappointed and relived when the room began to shake, a breeze picking up despite the fact that Sam was fairly certain they were underground in a sealed room. A loud crack signified the arrival of a figure with his back to them, wearing.. A green Hawaiian shirt?  
"-so the lady's having a seizure and I still got half a pie left..." The figure trailed off, obviously pulled from a conversation. He turned around awkwardly, glancing around the semi-dark room and allowing Sam to get a good look at him. The guy was short and stocky, with shaggy black hair and stylish dark sunglasses perched on his nose. He expression changed to one of mild annoyance as he spotted the demons, and curiosity when his eyes landed on Sam.

"What the actual fuck?" He exclaimed in a heavy British accent. "Can't you just call, like normal people? I bloody hate demons..." He waved his hand and a plush orange chair appeared, which he promptly flopped down on. Sam couldn't help but notice that it clashed horribly with his lime-green, pineapple covered shirt.

"You are the Master of Death?" The redheaded demon asked the guy, who nodded and flicked his hand lazily, gesturing for her to continue. "We have need of your assistance. We have enemies that require the Kiss of Fate," She stood tall and arrogantly, looking down at the man. She obviously thought she was in control of the situation, but Sam saw it quite differently. The power rolling off the man was astounding, and Sam had little doubt that he could easily destroy the demons as if they were flies.

"The Kiss of Fate? Why?" The Master of Death raised his eyebrow curiously. The redheaded demon let her vessel's face twist angrily for a moment before clearing her throat, "The angels don't wish them to die. They keep bringing them back to the mortal plane."

The man chuckled. "So you want me to destroy their souls?" He shook his head. "Look, I really don't want to get involved in another war. Any other time, I might have considered it. Probably not, but hey. You never know. But, unfortunately," The guy's small smirk fell off his face, leaving an annoyed and frustrated anger. "I was about to get _laid_ before you summoned me. You interrupted my vacation!"

The man waved his hand again, causing the demons the fall to their knees and wretch. Sam watching in fascination as the Master of Death very slowly killed the demons, black smoke leeching out of them until there was nothing left but their vessels, who were left alive and undamaged.

The guy turned his attention to Sam. "'Ello. I'm Harry. You can call me Supreme Lord of All," Harry stated as he magically broke Sam's bindings. "You're Sam, right? You have _no idea_ how many calls I get because of you. You're causing a lot of trouble for a lot of important people." Sam smiled nervously, examining the face of the Master of Death, which had melted into a confident and comfortable smile. "It's fabulous, I love to see them with their knickers in a twist."


End file.
